Ah,
the end of Summer… the Proms are over, the Wigmore
season begins- and life
springs anew, or at least that’s how it feels this year. Long
committed to covering the dreaded ‘Last Night’ at the Albert
Hall – mainly because of the presence of Andreas Scholl – I
requested a change when I realized that it coincided with this
Opening Night: and how glad I was that I did. Almost exactly
two years ago, after an opening concert given to a relatively
sparse house, I opined that the Wigmore
really should open seasons with ‘one of the select group of
singers who would sell out this hall no matter who was performing
elsewhere…even though some of our fellow lovers of Song in the
U.S. apparently regard one of them as a ‘voiceless twit.’ How
heartening to report, then, that this time the place was packed
to the gunwales for the v.t. (very few critics, however) and that this opening recital
did everything that such a concert needs to do – set the correct
tone of high ambition for the season, welcomed regulars with
well-loved works interpreted anew, provided an evening of truly
distinguished music – making and, incidentally though by no
means unimportantly, made the audience feel a sense of belonging
to the place and optimism for the new regime, courtesy of a
beautifully judged Welcome in the programme (the complimentary
interval drink seemed to go down well, too).

Of
course, Bostridge has a wonderful
voice, and he is the least likely of all singers to merit the
description of ‘twit’- this recital was originally scheduled to present
him singing Schumann duets with Sophie Daneman,
but the soprano having had to withdraw, we were treated to an
all-Heine programme very much in the Fischer-Dieskau mould. The
tenor becomes more and more of a Hölderlin
figure with each recital, evoking the tortured romantic soul
with ever more anguish whilst developing still further his now
very astringent, sardonic view of this music and poetry. The
superb programme notes, by Richard Stokes, are clearly in sympathy
with this style: however to my ears it misses some of the ambivalence
that is the characteristic of the poet and the rapture that
is the hallmark of the composer: interestingly, Graham Johnson’s
playing seemed to err more towards my view.

In
the first three songs of ‘Liederkreis’
(Op. 24) Bostridge offered singing as angular as his appearance, the
only shreds of tenderness appearing in Johnson’s limpid nachspiel
to ‘Morgenssteh’
ich auf und frage’ but the singer
gave a more rounded performance of ‘Ichwandelteunter den Bäumen,’ with impressive phrasing in the long lines and finely
shaded expressiveness at ‘Schweigt
still!’ Bostridge clearly sees the centrally placed fifth song as
the ‘key’ to the cycle, and he gave it highly individual interpretation,
the ‘Winterreise’ – like closing stanza drawn out with anguished
drama and the repeat of the first lines given in a daring mezza-voce.
‘Berg’ und Burgen’ echoed the bittersweet,
ambivalent nature of both poet and composer, with the surface
glitter and gentle lapping of the waters, so finely suggested
by Johnson’s playing, uncomfortably undermined by Bostridge’s
almost dangerous singing, with the line ‘BirgtseinInnresTod und Nacht’ delivered in tones very far from the cosy lyricism
one usually hears, suggesting rather that this line is the prelude
to the speaker’s casting himself into those waters.

‘Mit
Myrten und Rosen’ is derided as a
lollipop by Richard Stokes, accusing the poem of ‘gooey sentimentality’
but surely it is Schumann’s expression of his love for Clara
which shines through the song, both in its vivid depiction of
the volcanic nature of his passion at ‘und rings vielblitzendeFunkenversprüht’ – particularly
incisively sung – and its full-blown romanticism at ‘Einstkommt dies Buch
in deine hand, / Du susses Liebimfernen land: whatever reservations
Bostridge may have about the latter,
he certainly surrendered himself to the emotion here. The final
diminuendo was a little disappointing in that instead of a wondrous
caress, as Goerne manages, here the word ‘Liebeshauch’
was not dwelt on quite long enough or given quite enough lingering
in the tone.

Six
other songs to Heine poems followed,
not all of them successful choices: ‘Du bistwieeineBlume’ was finely done, and ‘Abends
am Strand’ showed both singer and pianist at their most eloquent,
but Bostridge’s voice is not really
the right match for ‘Belsatzar,’ and
in the closing ‘MeinWagenrolletlangsam’ whilst he did catch
the required tone of malice in the lines about the apparitions,
he missed the languid air of the beginning and the ambivalence
of the poet’s feelings as a lover.

‘Dichterliebe’ is apparently everyone’s favourite song cycle,
which would have come as grim news to me when I struggled with
it as one of my ‘set works’ for A level Music decades ago: the
style of this evening’s performance of it may be gauged by Stokes’
description of Heine’s work as ‘hate
poems,’ and Bostridge’s echoing interpretation
of Schumann’s settings of them as 95% bitter and only 5% sweet.
In ‘Im wunderschönenMonat
Mai’ we were far more conscious of ‘Verlangen’
than ‘Liebe,’ and in ‘Ich will meineSeeletauchen’
the lover’s rapture was subsumed into the heartbreakingly brief
nature of the happiness described. ‘Am leuchtendenSommermorgen’ was given a fascinatingly bleak interpretation:
according to Bostridge, the pity offered
by the flowers is not pity at all but sardonic, ironic mockery,
making the following song even more emotionally desperate –
it was superbly sung, as was ‘AllnächtlichimTraume,’ the delicacy and subtlety of the phrasing all that
could be desired, and the final ‘vergessen’
deftly avoiding any hint of overplaying.

Such
is the individuality of Bostridge’s
interpretation that one can tend towards making light of the
actual singing – always a danger with artists who stray from
the well worn paths, but with ‘Aus altenMärchen’ no one could miss
the entirely proper anguish of ‘Ach, könntichdorthinkommen,’
so wonderfully expressed in the aching tone and the subtle shading
of the language. The recital closed with four encores, all settings
of Heine by Schubert and Brahms, the most successful being a
poetically sung and liquidly played ‘Mondenschein.’A great start to what promises to be a memorable
season ahead.